


when you break it's too late (for you to fall apart)

by ReluctantlyGlutenFree



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy(ish?) Ending, But still stands by his decision, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Claustrophobia, Dream shows up at the end there, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm an everyone apologist tbh, Mentioned Alexis | Quackity, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Mentioned Fundy, Mentioned Phil Watson | Philza, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protect Ghostbur, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sad boi hours, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Tubbo regrets it, also some introspect on Schlatt and Wilbur, at least for now, basically a tubbo character study with scenes sprinkled in there generously, dude I love ghostbur to absolute pieces, everything is just so sad right now bros, it starts a bit slow but I promise stuff goes down, pog through the pain my brothers, this is probably really hard to follow so I apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantlyGlutenFree/pseuds/ReluctantlyGlutenFree
Summary: Suddenly, despite his proclamation just hours ago that the discs were worthless,he gets it.or, it's late into the night when Tubbo stops trying to be rational.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 36
Kudos: 294





	when you break it's too late (for you to fall apart)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been lurking around here for awhile now and never intended in a thousand years to actually write something for "Minecraft role-play" of all things but that being said, holy cow, everyone on the SMP is absolutely crushing it with the story, like, wow!
> 
> Here's the obligatory disclaimer, this is written strictly about the fictional characters depicted on the Dream SMP and not at all intended to reflect the real people. 
> 
> I hope this is all intelligible (and maybe even just a smidge enjoyable) despite my abuse of parenthesis and italics! Criticism is always welcome. Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> Warnings for blood, claustrophobia, flashbacks, grammatical errors, and sadness (so if those things cause you discomfort please proceed with caution)!

It's late into the night when Tubbo stops trying to be rational.

It's _too late_ by the time Tubbo finally stops thinking as the ' _President of L'manburg_ ' and starts thinking like _Tubbo_.

Tubbo—the kind, good-natured, boy that is a friend to all those around him.

(He always takes the jokes in good humor. Learns to be patient and understand the strange, unruly language in which Tommy speaks. He strives to look past a person's surface and _prays_ others will show him the same courtesy.)

Tubbo—the boy bursting with passion and ambitions, who yes, has never been the strongest or bravest but is far, far more persistent and perseverant than anyone has ever given him credit for.

(He spends hours building and planning until his vision becomes a reality set before him. When things go wrong he takes a deep breath and tries again.

He's a dreamer.)

Tubbo—the sidekick, the accomplice, the partner in crime. With mischief in his eyes and trouble in his smile.

(They scheme, scam, and reek havoc everywhere they go. Tubbo never really minds playing the sidekick, he's just thrilled to be included. They laugh until tears glisten on their eyelashes and their throats are raw from hollering.)

(People could never quite make the connection that despite being kind and good-tempered, he is nearly, if not just as, chaotic as Tommy.

_They have fun_.

It's worth it, even if it only was for a little while.) 

Tubbo—the child soldier, the pawn, the _martyr_. Who fights wars that aren't his, whose innocence is ripped away before he loses all his baby teeth, and who doesn't understand yet that not everyone means well like he does.

(It starts with a few blaze rods. Then suddenly he is part of something.

Something _big_.

He follows Wilbur and Tommy. It's exciting and scary and new but _he has always been thrilled to be included_ )

(He gives L'manburg his blaze rods. In return it takes his time, innocence, and _life_.

Oh, and in time, _it'll take his best friend too._ )

Tubbo—the afterthought, the disregarded, the forgotten. Not important enough to write history but still expected to pay its tolls.

(He is spoken over, lied too, and doubted.

He isn't exiled with Tommy and Wilbur, instead he remains in his country, working under a tyrant whose hand clamps his shoulder in a steel grip.

He _hates_ that he finally feels important.)

(The watchful eyes of Manburg bind him beneath their judgemental gaze. Though the blackstone walls have been torn down, it feels as if new, thicker, and more imposing ones have risen in their place. _He's staring down the end of a crossbow and the walls just keep closing in closer and closer until he starts to suffocate—)_

Tubbo - the trusted, the treasured, the weakness.

(Tommy's never been good at expressing emotions other than rage. It's not at all that he fails to do so, but rather that he does so in ways that people don't recognize. Tubbo learns his language early on. An outsider could very easily infer that the two were off-put by each other when in fact they were as close as could be.

But sometimes, Tubbo doesn't understand him. He doesn't _understand_ why Tommy screams his name with such distress, or why Tommy screams at others on account of him, or why Tommy insists on being beaten and blooded in the pit.

Tubbo supposes he should be touched, this is how Tommy says " _I care about you_ ", after all.

Yet, as Niki tenderly helps him wrap his burns while they wait for Tommy to respawn, he really only wishes he was right there beside him, _safe_.)

(Perhaps he's undersold his own value [or at least his value to others] judging by the sheer heartbreak in Tommy's eyes. The fear he'd once seen so prevalently when Schlatt's voice boomed, encompassing his entire world from the podium in a situation far too similar to this, one had been traded for utter _anguish_.

But he refuses to think about that. _Not yet._ )

It's in the dead of night, long after Dream has taken Tommy away, when Tubbo no longer has the strength to think rationally.

It's only then he realizes something.

He _hates_ this.

In that moment, all he feels is his tie securely knotted all too tightly around his throat and his suit jacket uncomfortably restricting his range of motion, and he wonders _why_ , despite it _finally_ being his turn to write history (and doing everything within his power to be the best, most benevolent leader he can be) he feels no different than he had when he was trapped, confined, and powerless under Schlatt.

He _isn't_ powerless now, _for the first time in his life_.

_He should feel free._

If he were still thinking rationally tonight he would just tell himself to suck it up. He's been given this opportunity to lead L'manburg, and he can be the very first to do it _selflessly_.

Tubbo watches those before him. He follows their lead and believes in their dreams. He fights their battles, dies for their causes, and learns from their mistakes.

And now, he has the chance to be the leader he once thought he was following.

* * *

Wilbur was a good leader but wanted more than anything to be remembered and esteemed in glory. He had scratched and clawed his way into the history books, doing whatever it took to leave his legacy.

(' _An election_ ', Wilbur thinks when pondering his revolution.

He has disrupted peace to make a name for himself, he has sent children to war with the promise of prosperity, and he has placed himself in a position of power without the consent of his nation.

_He isn't stupid_. Despite what Tommy and Tubbo may think, he's no hero.

But maybe, just _maybe_ , an election could right his wrongs. Maybe, if he wins by the rightful vote of his people, he could save his legacy yet.

So he holds an election.)

(One day, far in the future, he paces the ravine, babbling to himself incoherently of doom and betrayal, and gripping his hair until his knuckles turn white. He had been so stupid to think he could redeem his sins, _so stupid_ to believe there was a legacy to save in the first place.

L'manburg could _try_ and forget him, his own son could _try_ and disown him but Wilbur would be remembered.

He may be too damaged to be saved but he'd _make sure_ he wasn't forgotten.)

He gets his wish, in the end. Wilbur leaves his legacy in the form of a crater.

No one is able to forget Wilbur, _that is_ , _except for Wilbur himself._

(Ghostbur sees the haunted look in their eyes and knows that it's not him that has left them haunted but rather the ghost of the sins he committed while he was alive.)

* * *

Schlatt, while an inexplicably likable person, wasn't a good leader.

He was a businessman, always looking for ways to get himself up in the world.

From the start he was in it for himself.

Tubbo had the...' _privilege_ ' of knowing Schlatt better than most, and what people don't realize is the man was crazy smart.

More than that, he was an _opportunist_. Never seeing what he had, _only what he had yet to gain_.

(" _Dear Schlatt_ ," The letter reads,

_"I understand your last visit to the SMP didn't result in 'good tidings' but I have a proposition that I hope you dwell on with much consideration. L'manburg has won her glorious independence and we have decided to hold a presidential Election on the 20th of September. As you probably can assume, I will be running for President under POG2020. As one of my oldest, dearest, and most influential accomplices, I would be honored to have your endorsement. I have taken the liberty of discussing with the Dream the conditions of your return and he has agreed to lift your banishment if you wish to do so. While it'd be unwise for me to discuss the finer details of such things, I believe the election looks promising for POG2020. Dispite your American ethnicity, I'd like to offer you a home in my promising and prosperous land. Opportunity awaits!_

_Glowing regards,_

_President Soot_."

Schlatt reads the letter over and over, front and back, and all he sees is one word:

_Opportunity_.

_After all, what does he have to lose?_ )

(He doesn't realize what he has until he's lost it.)

Though chasing wealth his whole life, Schlatt has never had much. So suddenly, when Schlatt successfully gets everything just like he's always dreamed of, he has nothing left to prove. Nothing left to gain.

After all the unkind remarks, bruises, and awful memories Schlatt has left Tubbo with, he never thought he'd feel sorry for the man.

Yet, as he lies slumped amongst the shattered glass on the floor camarvan, gasping beneath the weight of his dumbbells and screaming of doom and betrayal, Tubbo can't help but feel pity.

(" _If I die this country is going to go down with me_!" Schlatt cackles. And as his pulse grows faster and he chokes on his own chortle—

Tubbo _really_ hopes he's wrong.)

* * *

Tubbo has never been a leader.

In a way, he'd always been a bit of a pushover. Not out of fear of making his own decisions but instead because he trusted the judgement of others more than his own.

He was young and not quite confident with where his own feet may lead him. So he followed.

_And look where that got them._

(Tommy sacrifices his life and disks for L'manburg's freedom and Tubbo is so proud of him. He thinks that _maybe_ , they can finally be safe and at peace.

Schlatt brings exile and more violence and _it's all wrong._

_It wasn't supposed to- this wasn't-_

Tubbo thought they had already paid the price for peace, _he had just—_

He thought with the disks and the dual and the blood and the fire that—

_He thought they were free._ )

Tubbo watches those before him. He _follows_ their lead and believes in their dreams. He _fight_ s their battles, _dies_ for their causes, and _learns_ from their mistakes.

And now, he has the chance to be the leader he once thought he was following.

Tubbo's dreams aren't filled with remembrance and fame.

Instead he dreams of peace, safety, and open pastures with abundances of flowers and bees, and the warmth of the setting autumn sun grazing his skin—

He wants to create that for his people.

And in order to do that, he has to put their interest above his own.

He has to make decisions that physically make him sick and pretend to be confident in them.

He has to do what's best for L'manburg. (At least if he wants to be different from those before him.)

Tubbo has never been an angry person, but in that moment he summons every bit of anger and frustration he's ever felt towards his best friend, digging it up from where he's long laid it to rest and begging it to aid him, because he _has_ to do this. _For L'manburg._

Exiling Tommy wasn't the right thing for Tubbo to do. _It could never be_.

But it _was_ the right thing for the President of L'manburg to do.

Trouble follows Tommy wherever he goes and Tubbo has never minded before. But now, as it threatens to send them back to the war he had sworn to protect his country from, he realizes that Dream, New L'manburg, and Tommy cannot coexist.

And for someone who has only ever wanted for everyone to get along, that hurts him _really bad_.

(Tubbo doesn't yell often. That's more of Tommy's thing.

Tommy has always tried to be known by his words. Screaming and becoming louder _and louder_ until he is heard.

But not Tubbo.

That's _exactly_ why Tubbo yells at Tommy to shut up. Because Tubbo knows Tommy's language and hopes, in sheer desperation, that he can communicate to him the severity of this situation.

He begs and pleads with Tommy to behave and stay out of trouble _just this once_.

Because Tubbo knows where his own priorities lie, at least for now.

He has the chance to be L'manburg's first selfless leader after all.)

Tubbo exiles Tommy from L'manburg and he _refuses_ to think about it anyway other than rationally.

He is writing history this time. So many eyes are looking to him ready to follow his lead. He _refuses_ to let them down.

He won't watch his home burn again.

(He watches not just one, but both of his homes burn. The embers leap into the air as the wood collapses in on itself, giving way to the scalding flames eating it alive. Smoke emits from the charred remains and fills his lungs and he chokes.

He never rebuilds them.

_Deep down he wonders if every place he feels safe is doomed to burn_.)

(Though Tubbo tries so hard to forgive and forget, sometimes in his dreams he sees his first house burn down. He watches it burn, chokes on smoke, and sees the flint and steel in Tommy's hands)

So Tubbo refuses to think about his own interests and instead thinks of open pastures, and sunsets, and peace, and how he can bring those things to his people.

(He _refuses_ to think about that those are the very things he's just torn away from Tommy.)

He half expects Tommy to attack him or scream at him like Tubbo had witnessed him do to do many others.

But he doesn't. Tommy just stands there, silent.

(The others don't know it but Tubbo does. The others don't speak Tommy's language but Tubbo _learned to understand it ages ago._ Tommy breaks apart into a million pieces right in front of him and it takes everything in Tubbo to not immediately go back on his verdict.)

But Tubbo refuses to think anything but rationally in that moment. _He can't afford to_. He is a pushover but out of trust _not_ necessity.

And now, people are trusting _him_ to do what is right for the nation.

_~~(He refuses to think about how Tommy was the first one to trust him.)~~ _

Tommy looks so lonely and if Tubbo had ever seen him like this before he would have stopped at nothing until he knew Tommy was alright. But now, Tubbo barries the urge to run to him deep down, knowing that _it might not be a privilege he has anymore._

(He _refuses_ to think about how tightly and desperately Tommy had held him as the ghosts of vibrant colors still danced in his vision and the crackle of fireworks rang in his ear drums.

"Are you alright?" Tommy had asked so softly that anyone who knew him—excluding the boy in his arms—might question if they actually knew him at all.

" _Wilbur said he wouldn't hurt me_.")

Tommy hits the ground with a thud as he allows Dream to shove him off the obsidian wall. Tubbo clenches his fists but remains firm and still.

If he feels the ghost of a hand clenching his shoulder he swears to never speak of it.

(He refuses to think about how somber and uncharacteristically docile Tommy had been in the days following the festival, after his fight in the pit.

Tubbo refuses to think about how, after years of learning to understand and translate Tommy's language, the boy was finally communicating back with him in his _own_.

He _refuses_ to think about when Tommy finally began to stir, giving a quiet whine and rustling the sheets of the bed that he and Niki slumped against, remaining patiently despite having long finished cleaning their festival-inflicted wounds.

" _...Tubbo_?" Tommy had murmerd, voice thick and eyes blinking groggily in an attempt to focus on the boy by his bedside.

Niki took one look at the angry bruises still littering Tommy's features, much improved after the healing potion from the ones he'd previously dawned—painting for air on the damp, unforgiving floor of the pit—but still concerning. She stood, quickly rubbed Tommy's back, shot Tubbo a knowing smile, and promised to be back soon with the med-kit.

As she vanished through the doorway carved into the ravine, Tommy clumsily reached out and Tubbo took his hands in his own.

"Right here, Tommy." He had whispered.

"Mmm, 'm glad." Tommy hummed, disorientingly tipping forward to rest his forehead on Tubbo's shoulder.)

He watches Dream escort Tommy out of his vision and refuses to think anyway but rationally.

(He _refuses_ to think of how Tommy becomes scarce in the days following his inauguration. So much is happening so fast and Tubbo is running, trying to catch up.

_Tubbo's always moving, always looking forward—only daring to gaze into the past when he grows exhausted from running._

So after everything ( _betrayal, explosions, withers,_ and _loss_ ), Tubbo doesn't stop. He can't afford too. _Not yet._

Instead, he busies himself with the rebuilding of a nation. _His_ nation. It's a massive task but he's always been ambitious.

_He keeps moving._

And maybe, it's too late by the time he realized he's left Tommy behind.

They were supposed to rebuild L'manburg _together_ ; the way they had always done things. They were supposed to get the discs back _together_.

He goes searching for Tommy after having dinner with Phil one evening. He had figured Tommy would be with him, spending as much time with catching up with his father figure as possible, but is a little concerned ( _as is Phil_ ) to find Phil hasn't seen him since they went mining together the day before.

He is tired, no, _downright exhausted_ , but this is far more important.

He isn't worried until he checks both of Tommy's homes to no avail.

For the next hour he checks everywhere he can possibly think of, and still doesn't find him.

But there was still one last place to check.

Tubbo trudges through the tunnels far beneath the SMP with one destination in mind. The sky has long since turned dark [not that he could tell from underground] when he finally arrives in the ravine. He pushes down the unpleasant memories of _paranoia_ , _claustrophobia_ , and _potatoes_ and instead presses onward.

It's dark, forbidding, and he'd really rather not be here but _he has to be sure_.

He navigates the ravine warily, cautious to not step on any of the buttons still littering the floor. He checks the rooms one by one by the dim glow of the lantern before hearing the faintest noise coming from the farm.

"... _Tommy_?" Tubbo calls hesitantly, peeking into the farm he had once helped Technoblade build.

And there is Tommy, covered in sweat and soil, planting potatoes in the ground while mumbling quietly amongst himself ( _it's too soft to decipher but Tubbo can only hope it isn't of doom and betraya_ l).

It takes a moment, but when Tommy registers the voice his head snaps up to meet Tubbo's gaze.

"Tubbo?" Tommy gingerly stands up. " _Geez_ , what's your problem, man? You're just stood there staring, come help me!" Gesturing wildly to the crops. Tommy marches over and dumps a load of dirty potatoes into Tubbo's arms before turning right back around to return to his planting.

"If we don't have enough food for when we attack Manburg, Wilbur's literally going to murder me." He mumbles.

"...Tommy..?"

Carefully setting the potatoes aside, Tubbo tentatively sets a hand on Tommy's arm and pulls him back. Tommy lets him, turning around with knit eyebrows and a puzzled expression.

"I-I... _Tommy_ , Wilbur's-" Tubbo doesn't continue and instead searches Tommy's eyes.

"Tubbo, man, are you alright? What're you on abo-"

First all he sees is confusion; curiosity follows shortly after. Then Tommy's eyes linger on his suit and there is the faintest bit of recollection and-

Tubbo sees the _exact_ , _heart-wrenching_ , moment when it clicks.

Tommy's eyes implore with his own before flittering down to inspect his dirty, blistered hands.

"I-I know."

"You-...you ready to go home now, yeah?"

"... yeah."

Tubbo guides him out of Pogtopia by the dim light of the lantern.)

President Tubbo turns his back before Dream has led Tommy out of sight.

He thinks rationally, presses on, and doesn't let himself feel. _Not yet._

But now, late into the night, the President of L'manburg has fallen asleep, leaving only Tubbo awake to shoulder the weight of the world.

_(He thinks of Tommy and doesn't dare let himself indulge in loneliness.)_

Oh, what has he done?

With the President of L'manburg nowhere to be found, he no longer refuses to acknowledge the weight of his actions.

No, he doesn't reckon he is in the wrong. In fact, Tubbo would go as far to say he made the right, _responsible decision._

But, _oh_ does he regret it.

Not because of the longing for comfort he feels as the lingering screech of fireworks and the burning of skin once scorched overwhelm his senses, coming once again to taunt him.

Nor does he regret his decision to exile Tommy because of the betrayed, angry, and confused rebukes he receives from Quackity and Fundy (along with the knowledge that his cabinet might never trust him again).

These things hurt (so, _so_ badly), but he knew he'd have to make sacrifices when taking this job. He knew he'd be alone and make people angry.

Tubbo doesn't regret it because _he_ just lost the one person he could always count on.

_No_ ,it's because Tommy had.

Tubbo has been manipulated, killed, and hurt. Not only that but he's been forced to watch Tommy get manipulated, killed, and hurt right along with him. But no matter what they were there for eachother.

The difference is that this time, Tubbo couldn't be there for Tommy because _he_ was the one that hurt him,

and _that's_ what makes Tubbo regret it.

(The difference between them is this:

Tubbo is a fast learner and Tommy never learns.

Tubbo learns to be guarded. To hide his feelings and attachments behind an indifferent expression and to _think,_ not _feel,_ around those you don't trust with all of yourself.

He learns that _sometimes_ , if you follow your heart _, it will lead you right off a cliff._

Tommy doesn't learn this.

Tommy loves [and hates] with his heart on his sleeve and his mind on his tongue. He doesn't hide, instead leaving himself wide open for the world to see.

He _loves_ , _loses_ , and _feels_ [and gets hurt over and over again].

_He chases his heart right off the edge_.)

Tubbo knows Tommy.

He learns his language, forgives his faults, and treasures his companionship.

He watches Tommy get hurt and harmed and then return to the very fire that burned him.

Tubbo is there, he's _always_ there. Ready to help Tommy up or keep him company, or just listen.

_Tubbo is there to pick up the pieces time after time and swears to never break the boy that is far more delicate than he seems._

Tubbo knows Tommy. Maybe better than he knows himself.

And Tubbo knows that he has hurt the boy far more than the world ever could.

Tubbo broke Tommy today, and he can no longer shove that knowledge away; can no longer refuse to think about it.

(" _I thought I was your friend_?"

_Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it_.

" _Goodbye, Tommy_."

He doesn't.)

It's late, and Tubbo tries, but can't seem to remember a time when Tommy has forgiven someone.

He doesn't _dare_ to hope, or feel deserving enough, to be the first.

Because even if Tommy can forgive him, he'll _never_ be able to trust again.

It's late, _so late_ , when he finally arrives at the spot in the forest where he's buried his most prized possessions. He hadn't even tried to sleep. It was pointless.

Tubbo doesn't hesitate and slides to his knees, digging his hands into the ground and unearthing heaps of dirt and stone as frantically as he can manage.

He digs and digs and shards of stone tear at his skin but he _doesn't care_ _-_

When he reaches the obsidian layer that protectively coats the chest, he doesn't think rationally. Instead he _feels_.

(If a few tears escape his eyes as he is _beating_ his bare hands against the hard black rock, it isn't because of the throbbing.)

After what feels like an eternity, the black block crumbles away and uncovers the lid of his chest.

Tubbo's hands are bleeding and trembling as he removes it from the ground to set it beside him. Shakingly, he flicks open the lid.

It's really dark. He hadn't bothered to bring any torches in his sporadic rush to get here, so he is left to scour through the chest holding his most valuable possession by touch alone.

_He can't find it quick enough._

Tubbo feels him before he sees his shadow looming over him.

"Tommy's _gone_ , Dream. You got what you wanted." He tries to bridle anger, frustration, _anything_ \- but just _so_ sounds exhausted.

"That I did." Dreams voice is calm, not at all furious and antagonizing like it had been meer days ago. His tone is friendly, like the one he used to talk to them with, before discs, and revolution, and fire. It makes Tubbo wish a lot of things were different.

But it does _not_ make him forget.

Tubbo sits there, on the wet grass, with dirt coating his features and wedged beneath his fingernails and curses the tremors that run through him. He reluctantly scoots around to face the masked man, leaving one hand behind to rifle blindly through the chest.

_Dream_ is the reason for this.

He's the one pulling all the strings and hiding behind all the chaos. _He always has been_.

_(Maybe he should have listened. The threat Dream imposes is one they'll inevitably have to face. Tommy's exile could be for nothing.)_

Tubbo takes in the sight of the man before him. Dream has no armor or weapons (at least none that he can see) and stands with his hands casually in the front pocket of his green sweatshirt.

He isn't here for a fight.

(At least Tubbo doesn't think he is.)

(To be fair, it's hard to tell with Dream.)

"Saw you running around randomly in the middle of the night and thought I should check on you or whatever." The man explains. "Especially with everything that happened earlier, y'know."

Tubbo doesn't respond. He keeps his eyes trained on Dream, fingers aching as they continue to card through the contents of the chest.

Dream looks him up and down, studying, calculating, _anticipating_ -

"You seem to be handling it well. Or at least better than _Tommy_." Tubbo watches Dream with wide eyes as he moves to lean against a tree while contemplating his next words. He settles on them.

"...I've never seen him so-"

"Stop- _please_ , _j_ _ust_ _stop_." He pleads.

Tubbo doesn't want to know, he doesn't think he can take it right now.

"Alright, _alright_. I stand corrected..." Dream defends, raising his hands with a shrug.

Then the mask veers right at him, peering into his soul.

"You made the right choice you know. It wasn't an easy one either. I...I really meant it when I said I was proud of you."

He stops listening. He can't do this. He can't. His fingers finally graze the vinyl they've been searching for.

Dream notices. Of course he does.

"Why are you here, Dream?" His voice barely croaks out, cracking miserable on its way.

"I _told you_ , Tubbo. I'm here to check on yo-"

" _If you're here for that disc you're going to have to kill me_."

It's late and he can't think rationally or listen anymore.

Dream briefly pauses but doesn't waiver in the slightest, still leaning comfortably his back against the tree.

He doesn't waiver at all, in fact he starts snickering.

" _Oh, Tubbo_! I'd never!" Dream mockingly gasps, slapping a hand over his heart before divulging into another wheeze. "Despite what all you children _believe_ , I'm not some heartless jerk that spends all of his free time trying to one up literally _kids_. I'm not here for the disc."

Unease pools in Tubbo's stomach and the air turns cold when Dream finally stops laughing, pushing himself off the tree.

"Tubbo, _trust me_. If I had come here for the disc, _I would have it._ "

He takes his eyes off Dream for one second to glance at the disc clenched tight in his fingers and suddenly Dream is towering over him.

Startled, Tubbo scrambles back, pressing hard against the chest. Dream eases his stance and whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue.

"...Well, you said it yourself, Tubbo." He eventually states. "The discs are _worthless._ There's _hundreds_ of them on this server. All of which I could have _if I wanted too_." Dream stares at him for an incredibly long and insufferable second, before finally turning his back to leave.

As if he had read Tubbo's thoughts, Dream stops and turns only his head.

"That's what makes you the best President L'manburg has ever had. You don't let silly attachments to objects or _people_ impact your judgement. You do what's best for your country. You could be the one to break the cycle, Tubbo. We could bring peace to the server _together_." He pauses and shakes his head.

_"Just remember your place_."

With that, he's gone without a trace, leaving Tubbo to wonder if Dream had really ever been there at all.

Tubbo sits with his back pressing against the chest, in a pile of dirt, late into the night, no longer thinking rationally, not quite daring to move yet, and clutching Mellohi in his bleeding hands.

And suddenly, despite his proclamation just hours ago that the discs were worthless, as he cradles Mellohi, his last link to Tommy, he gets it.

Tubbo doesn't know when, but at some point he curls around Mellohi, grasping it so gently, as if it may shatter into a million pieces.

(The difference between them is this:

Tubbo _thinks_ and Tommy _feels._ )

It's late and he is no longer thinking rationally. It's debatable if he is even thinking at all.

No, _instead, he feels_.

Like Tommy would.

His back slides down the chest until he's all but lying on the ground. He stops refusing all the memories and instead embraces them, feeling their weight.

He thinks like _Tubbo_ — the boy who has grown up far too fast and sacrificed far too much (his _blaze rods_ , his _innocence_ , his _life_ , his _freedom_ ) for a world that has never loved him back.

He knows that President Tubbo will have to wake up come morning and exile Tommy from his thoughts all over again.

He knows he's going to have to wake up and give away his freedom, submitting to the walls that pressure him from all sides, getting _closer and closer_ -

(If one good thing comes from all this it's this:

_Tommy needs to be free._

As odd as it may sound, everyday he spends under Schlatt's regime, Tubbo _thanks God_ that Tommy was exiled and not left here.

_He could never make it._

Tubbo is pretty certain that Tommy was both literally and metaphorically claustrophobic.

He can't be held down by rules or guidelines. Can't be expected of, accounted for, or predicted.

Perhaps Tubbo should have been thinking rationally before making Tommy his vice. While there is no one in the world he trusts more than Tommy, _he should have known-_

Tubbo knows Tommy. He knows that no one can ever hope to tame or contain him.

Tubbo knows all this,

_and really should have known better_.)

He hopes that Tommy is free now. That's Tubbo's only consolation.

_Deep, deep down he is almost jealous._

(Tommy beats against the bars like a furious, mistreated circus animal on display for all to see. He is entirely unconsolable and Tubbo wishes he could cooperate, _just this once._

Tubbo fights the glares he receives from the courtroom and steps down from the platform, making his way in front of Tommy. He reaches through the bars as best as he can and reassuringly places his hands on Tommy's upper arms.

"Hey, hey, Tommy. I'm on your side here but-"

" _Then get me out of this box!_ " Tommy spits, thrashing out of his hold.

" _No, no, no,_ I have to be _unbiased_ -"

"Even if _I did do it_ you can't just put me-"

" _Tommy_ -"

"I have human rights, _I'm a hu_ -"

" _Shut up, shut up, shut u-_ "

Tubbo's voice is hoarse from yelling.

_No matter how much he hopes or how hard he tries to appease everyone, he thinks it's in that moment he realizes there's far more than iron bars separating them now_.)

(It'd be so cruel to force Tommy to behave, and wear ties that constrict around his neck and suits that restrict his range of motion.

That's what he tells himself.)

Tubbo knows Tommy needs to be free but neglects to realize that, _maybe, he needs to be too_.

They're just _kids_ after all.

So Tubbo sends Tommy ahead of him— _once again_ staying behind in a country that has been doomed to fall since it's conception— and yields to the walls that crush him from all sides.

(" _Tubbo! Tubbo in a box! Tubbox_!")

It's late, _oh so late_ —when Tubbo clings to Mellohi like a lifeline—that he no longer has the strength to think rationally.

Instead, he thinks of pastures, and peace, and warm autumn suns.

He thinks of bees, and flowers, and safety for himself and all those he cares about.

He thinks of calm fire that warms his chilled skin rather than burns his home.

He thinks of the smiles and laughter that causes tears to spring in your eyes and warmth to bloom in your core.

He thinks—

_No_ , he _dreams._

(He's always been a dreamer)

He dreams of music notes, and freedom and _Tommy_ ,

and _maybe_ , that when Tubbo is free too, _he can join him out there._

(if Tommy will still have him, of course.)

_And they'll have everything they've ever cared about._

_(The compass passes from Wilbur's pale, translucent hands to his own trembling ones. At first the needle quivers and spins but soon it settles [though the tremors from his hands never quite allow it rest]._

_It points to freedom._

_He stares at it for what might be hours—only daring to look elsewhere to blink away the tears glistening on his eyelashes—before finally lifting his gaze to Wilbur's sincere, expectant eyes._

_He refuses to let go of that compass even after his small boat settles onto the coastline like it was made to fit there and the stripped bark hiding just past the treeline catches his eye.)_

**Author's Note:**

> It probably won't happen but I'm considering writing a companion piece for Tommy if I feel so inclined. 
> 
> If you made it this far, number one, 
> 
> how??
> 
> and number two, 
> 
> genuinely thank you, it means a ton to me.


End file.
